A Second Chance
by JeanieBeanie33
Summary: very tentatively continued. AU Lily didn't die in the attack but instead four years later. Harry is rescued from the clutches of his aunt by Severus Snape. What happens when he's raised in the magical world by Sirius, Remus, and Sev? What will he be like?
1. I'm Buyin' These For My Mama

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Harry Potter or any other character you recognize. The plot, any character you don't recognize, and any pranks mentioned are mine, ALL MINE! MWAHAHAHA! TAKE THAT, YOU EVIL LAWYERS :muse smacks me: Sorry about that.

Chapter 1. I'm Buying These for My Mama  


I stood in line, my eyes the usual cold black, my hair the same greasy state as always (Potions weren't good for hair if you stood over them long enough). It had been several years since the fall of the Dark Lord. I couldn't have been happier.

Right now, I was buying a present for the only person I would buy a present for: my godson, Drano, who was five. It was my duty as godfather to buy the perfect gift for the boy, even though he had more possessions than I do.

A short, small little boy less than two feet high was in front of me. He was pale, and had a tuft of untidy dark hair and bright green eyes and a lightning bolt-shaped scar. A muggle, no dou – wait a moment. A lightning bolt-shaped scar? Could it be the one and only famous Harry Potter? The hero? The 'Boy-Who-Lived'? What could he possibly be doing here, and what was he buying?

I tilted my head slightly, and saw that he was holding a shoe box with a pair of green shoes in it that matched his eyes.

It was the boy's turn. He said to the cashier, "Here, sir. I'm buying these for my mama. She's in the hospital, and a little sick, and I want her to look beautiful, because she might see Jesus tonight."

Lily was in the _hospital_? And a _muggle_ one, at that?

"I'm sorry to hear that," the girl on the other side of the counter, biting her lip.

"It's okay, sir," said Harry. "If she goes with Jesus, then she'll meet Daddy in heaven, and she'll be happy there, watching over me like Daddy has been." The cashier's eyes became watery, but she blinked rapidly and smiled faintly, clearing her throat.

"They're twenty-one pounds," she said quietly (!). Harry counted out many pence which seemed to take forever.

"It's not enough," said the cashier. I gazed at Harry, and suddenly, before I knew what I was doing, I was digging out a few pounds (yes, I have muggle money, even though Lucius always wonders) and handing them to the boy.

"Take them," I said gruffly. Harry hugged me, tears in his eyes, a look of grateful happiness on his face.

"Thank you, sir," he said, happy tears coming down. "Thank you! My mama will look be even more beautiful thanks to you!" He handed the money over to the cashier, who put it in the bag.

I watched as he walked out of the store. He looked so lonely, all alone without an adult, and around Christmas.

I followed him to the hospital near by, casting a Disillusionment Charm. I watched as he went upstairs, nurses and doctors throwing him sympathetic looks. I don't really think I like that...

He finally reached the door, and walked up to a blond, sour-faced woman who looked like a horse.

"I got them," he said, holding up the sack containing the shoes.

"Then what are you waiting for? Go give them to her so we can leave," said the woman sourly. Harry rushed into a ward. I peered in slightly. The sour woman didn't notice the slight ripple of air; she had already pulled out a magazine.

And there, in the plain, white sheets, was Lily Evans, or Lily Potter, I should say. But she wasn't the beautiful, happy woman I had gone to school with. She was deathly pale, her skin stretched over her face, and her bright green eyes seemed duller, but could easily be identified to match Harry's.

"Here, mummy," Harry said. "I got these for you, so that you'll look beautiful tonight. It's Christmas Eve."

"Oh, Harry, they're wonderful," said Lily, smiling at him. Her voice sounded weak.

"Want me to put them on?" asked a nurse kindly. Lily nodded. The nurse helped Lily stand up, and I blinked at how thin she was. Sure, she had always looked thin, but I never imagined her this thin. Harry snuggled next to her. I watched as Lily (unknowingly to Harry) closed her eyes, but slowly opened them again as Harry spoke again.

"Mummy, will you be with me as I grow up?" asked Harry. Lily looked at him.

"Of course, Harry," she said. "Even if you can't see me there, I will be." Harry looked at her.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Of course I could see you. Or are you going to wear Daddy's Invisibility Cloak all the time? Are we going to play Hide-and-Seek a lot or something? Can I be the one hiding?" Lily smiled, but didn't answer. Harry rest his head on her chest, and slowly fell asleep.

"Hey, Lily," I said, making my presence known, reversing the charm. She looked up, and her eyes widened.

"Hello, Severus," she said, smiling. It wasn't the smile I remembered.

"I-I haven't seen you in a while," said I, my eyes cast down.

"And I haven't seen you in a while," said Lily quiet. "Severus, I-I have to ask you something. If I die, please promise me you'll look after Harry."

"Don't say that Lil, you won't die," I said.

"I never forgot about you, Severus," Lily continued, ignoring what I said. Her breathing started to get shallower. "You were my first love, even though that love changed to one that a sister feels about her brother. I still trust you, like Professor Dumbledore does, trust you enough to list you as Harry's guardian, along with Sirius and Remus."

"But surely Black and Lupin could do it much better," I protested. "It would be better for Harry to be raised by them."

Lily shook her head slightly, as if, had she shaken it much more, she would have passed out. Her voice, however, came out strong.

"They will not prepare Harry," she said. "Voldemort _will_ return and come after Harry, and I won't be there to protect him. Harry needs to be trained to fight, to learn, to be prepared, while still being loved. You can do that. Sirius and Remus won't, not until he's older, and Voldemort could be back by then. I need you there to convince them that it is best for Harry to learn while still a child – children understand certain things better than adults, and if he begins learning such things at such an early age, he will have more time to understand them."

"But, Lily, I don't have any experience with young children!" I burst out. "Hell, even older children don't like me! I'm the most hated teacher at Hogwarts. How am I supposed to raise Harry with the love you want him to be, when I don't know how?"

"Then perhaps you'll both learn something from each other," Lily said, smiling weakly. The smile disappeared.

"Please, Severus," she said, almost pleadingly, sitting forward slightly, conscious of the sleeping Harry. "Please. Promise me, you'll raise Harry with Sirius and Remus. Promise you'll be there for him since I can't." I looked straight into her eyes and her into mine. Weak as she was, her eyes were still as piercing as ever.

"I promise," I whispered. Lily smiled, laying back down and closing her eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Severus," Lily whispered, her eyes still closed.

"Merry Christmas, Lily," I said, smiling, a genuine smile. I turned, and left. It was not even fifteen minutes later when Harry came out. He didn't seem to be surprised to see me (Lily must've told him about me).

"How's your mum?" I asked.

"I hope Jesus likes her shoes," he said softly, trying to be brave, but I saw his tears. "And Daddy, too." My eyes turned to black tears. The blond woman, however, seemed anything but sympathetic.

"Oh god," she said. "Now I have to take care of you, wretched boy, because your good-for-nothing mother was too damn stupid to stay out of the cold, and had to get sick and die."

So that was how Lily got so ill. She always did like the rain and the snow….I jerked myself out of my thoughts, and straightened my back. I towered over the woman (who must be Lily's much disliked sister, Petunia).

"She was not stupid," I said, gathering up all my anger of Lily's death and channeling it at her. Petunia looked at me, just noticing I was there.

"Oh, and I suppose you would know," she said nastily.

"As a matter of fact, I would," I said, "seeing as I went to school with her." The color went out of the stupid woman's face.

"Y-you're one of them?" Petunia gasped. "Get away from me." And she grabbed Harry's hand, but I grabbed her arm. She spun around and faced me.

"Let go of me," she said angrily, but I saw fear in her plain, pale eyes (so unlike Lily's lovely ones).

"No," I said. "I'm taking Harry. I daresay that he'll be much happier with me. Let Harry go, _now_." She let go of Harry immediately. I picked Harry up.

"Hey, Harry," I said gently. "So, you want to grow up loved?"

Harry didn't even pause.

"Yes!" he said happily.

"Let's go then," I said. "I'm Severus Snape, by the way."

I carried Harry down the stairs, went to the front desk, and told the secretary that Lily had passed on.

"Then shouldn't that awful woman be taking him?" she asked, making a face at 'woman.' I hid a smile. Really, not all muggles were bad, I suppose. So very different from what I thought when I was seventeen.

"No, Lily told me to take her," I said.

"You sure?" asked a vindictive doctor nastily, eyeing me up and down. I fixed him a stony glare. I should know – I practiced in the mirror.

"Yes, I am," I said coldly. "It should be in her will; else she would've given him to her sister."

"How do I know that?" he asked.

"Maybe because I actually _know_ her apart from her name and that she has a nice ass?" I said acidly. Legilimency really does come in useful….

The man blushed.

"He's telling the truth," Harry said, sticking out his lip in a pout that was a lot like his mother.

The man clearly didn't have practice with dealing with children, because he couldn't seem to come up with anything for that.

"I think a witness is enough evidence proving he's telling the truth," said the secretary quietly. "Or are you saying this young boy is lying?"

"Fine, take him, but I'll be there for the will reading," the doctor said, and he stalked off.

"I hate that jerk," the secretary muttered, then smiled at me. "Go on, sir, I'll make sure he does as little meddling as possible."

"Thanks," I said.

"Thank you," Harry said, without my prompting. The lady smiled at him, then one of those muggle phones rang and she said a quick "Good bye and take care!" and quickly picked it up.

Harry and I walked out of that hospital without sparing a glance behind us.

* * *

(!) I have no idea on how British currency works, so I took a guess. If it's wildly off, please let me know. I would greatly appreciate it. 

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There it is, the first chapter! Please read and review! I put in a little L/S, to satisfy the fans of that pairing.

Hope you enjoyed it! If you did, then please press the button in the bottom left-hand corner, and review! If you didn't, then please press the button in the bottom left-hand corner and tell me what you didn't like, unless it's that you don't like L/S. If that's the case, relax, it won't be mentioned a lot in the future.


	2. An Annoying Black and a Certain Werewolf...

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Harry Potter or any other character you recognize. The plot, any character you don't recognize, and any pranks mentioned are mine, ALL MINE! MWAHAHAHA! TAKE THAT, YOU EVIL LAWYERS:muse smacks me: Sorry about that.

**Chapter 2: An Annoying Black and a Certain Werewolf, Oh My**  


We were in London, so it was quite easy to find an empty alley so that I could apparate us back to my house. I could've used the floo in the Leaky Cauldron, but that would cause too many stares and questions for my taste.

"Hold onto me very tight," I said to Harry. "I'm going to do Side-Along Apparition." Harry nodded. I imagined my house, the one I used in the summer, and concentrated. I disappeared with a "pop," and the next thing I knew, I was in my home, Spinner's End. It was a very gloomy and shabby place, I realized, certainly not a place to raise a child.

"This won't do," I said out loud. "Harry, do you like this place?" Harry looked around the house. It was shabby, it was old, and it was moth eaten.

"Sorry, Uncle Sev," he said, shaking his head. "But no."

The use of Lily's old nickname (minus the uncle) for me surprised me, but I suppose it made sense. A five year old child could not be expected to pronounce a name so long (despite what my mother use to say).

"What to do, what to do," I muttered to myself, setting Harry down and beginning to pace. "Where can we move? Hogwarts? No, it was the holidays and the nosy students would probably ask a load of stupid questions as if it was their business." (My mind vaguely registered the giggle that was Harry's). "The Leaky Cauldron? If that were the case we might as well have gone there instead of apparating here."

"Um, Uncle Sev?" said Harry timidly, interrupting my thoughts. "I know where we could go."

"And what place would that be?" I asked, arching an eyebrow and crossing my arms automatically. The boy looked nervous, but stood his ground in a way that many Hogwarts students only dreamed of.

"Godfather Padfoot and Uncle Moony's house," Harry said.

"Who?" I said in disbelief. I couldn't help myself. Who on earth would have names like _that_? Yet at the same time, I couldn't help but feel a flash of familiarity.

"Oh, you wouldn't know," said Harry. "That's not their real names. I call them that, and I'm told my father use to call them that, but no one else does. Their real names are Sirius and Remus, but I like Padfoot and Moony better."

I manage to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Of _course_! That's why the names sounded so familiar; they were the ridiculous nicknames of the self-proclaimed Marauders, made up of James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew (the rat).

However, Harry did have a point. I was surprised that I hadn't thought of it before. Lily wanted me to split Harry's guardianship with Black and Lupin, so it only made sense that I would have to go over their and talk to them about arrangements, both about Harry and Lily's funeral (I seem to have this dead feeling inside of me whenever I think about Lily now, in a way that I haven't felt since she told me she loved James Potter).

"Harry," I said, my mind decided. "We're going to your godfather and your uncle's house. What is its name?"

"The Noble and Most Ancient House of Marauders," said Harry importantly, his eyes bright, just like Lily's had been whenever she was amused. "We're going to see Godfather Padfoot and Uncle Moony?" I rolled my eyes. Black someone's godfather, now that's something you don't hear everyday. Lupin as an uncle, I guess that's not too bad; he was, at least, sane.

"Yes, we're going to see them," I said. "Do you know how to use Floo powder?"

"Yes, Mummy taught me before she got sick," Harry said. Words could not have described the feeling my chest when I heard him say Mummy, especially when I think about how, had things been different, I would've been called Daddy.

I cleared my throat. "Well, that's what we're going to use. Come on, the fireplace is in the next room."

"This place has a _fireplace_?" Harry asked incredulously. Something about the way he said almost made me smile. Almost.

"Yes, why?" I asked.

"Well, it's just so…cold in here," said Harry.

"It is, isn't it?" I mused. "I hadn't notice before. Well, let's go." I led him into the living room in front of the fireplace, and grabbed the dish of powder.

"You go first, I don't want them to attack me," I said seriously, but Harry must've thought it was funny, because he giggled.

"Okay," said Harry. He grabbed some powder out of the dish I held for him, and shouted "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Marauders!"

I waited a moment, before grabbing some powder, putting the dish on the shelf, and throwing the powder into the flames.

"The Noble and Most Ancient House of Marauders!" I said clearly, feeling foolish. I swirled all around, and then I toppled headfirst into a scarlet rug. When I looked up, I recoiled.

I was standing on a scarlet rug with gold lining right in the middle of a marble floor. In fact, that pretty much described the room, scarlet and gold. And all of this spelled one word my mind hated almost as much as the name Voldemort: Gryffindor. There were scarlet sofas and scarlet armchairs, all trimmed with gold. All of the wooden furniture – two small cabinets, the mantle on the fireplace behind me, the writing desk – was made of either dark redwood or light mahogany. Even the fireplace was made of red bricks.

The thing that really caught my eye, however, was right above the mantle. A painting which had the Marauders, Lily, and Emmeline Vance, Alice Longbottom (it had been Alice McKinnon then), and Hestia Jones, Lily's best friends. It was in this order: a short, chubby man with watery eyes and very thin brown hair who was Peter Pettigrew (he looked quite amusing with a devil's mustache and beard, horns, "RAT BOY" on his forehead, and "TRAITOR!" above his head), a much younger looking Remus Lupin (no gray in his hair, very few worried lines, and a great deal brighter pale blue eyes), and the one and only Sirius Black, with the usual long black hair and gray eyes with the annoying twinkle. And, clutched in each other's arms, were Lily and James. James, with his usual untidy hair and hazel eyes, and Lily, with her beautiful face, bright, vivid green eyes, and hair as red as any Weasley's, only darker. Right next to Lily (James's shoulder was next to Black's) was Emmeline Vance, Alice Longbottom, and Hestia Jones.

As I looked at the rest of the room, I saw a few antiques. But my glancing about ended as a familiar, annoying voice came from the doorway.

"Why, Snivellus, such an unpleasant surprise," said Sirius Black. His hair was shorter than from the last time I saw him, and his gray eyes grinned at me.

"Oh shut it, Black," I said, getting off my knees. "Could you think of better colors to decorate the room?"

"Hey, don't blame me," said Black. "I wanted to decorate it with hot pink and bright purple, but regrettably, Remmie said that it was too "barbaric," and to act serious, which I always am! I mean, who else would I be? You? But then again, if I looked like you, I'd be ugly." I scoffed. Black as me? I dearly hope not.

"Humph," I said. "You as me. That'd be scary. I wouldn't want you to turn into me, because then I'd be turned into an idiotic dingbat."

"At least I wash my hair," said Black, shrugging.

"Sirius? Who are you talking to?" asked another voice, yet again very familiar. Lupin appeared right next to him, Harry' propped onto his shoulder, a curious look on his face.

"Snape?" said Lupin, eyes wide with wonder.

"Lupin," I said sarcastically. God, he asks as if I don't even exist. "Yes, it's me. I have some very serious news."

"Me?" ask Black. "I'm touched, Snivellus."

"Shut up, Sirius," said Lupin. "Yes?" He gave me an expectant look.

"It's about Lily," I said quietly. Immediately, both men's faces turned into worry and (in Sirius's case) anger.

"What's a matter with her?" Black growled. "I swear, Snape. If you laid a finger on Lily I'll personally wring your neck out, skin you alive, and throw you into a burning pit."

"I didn't touch Lily, nor would I ever harm her," I snarled. "But that doesn't mean she isn't dead."

Absolutely no color was in Lupin's face.

"What?" asked Lupin. "What's a matter, Snape? What happened?"

"She-she died, Lupin, about twenty minutes ago." Lupin and Black exchanged horrified looks, but I couldn't find it in me to make a remark.

"You're jesting, right?" asked Black. "It can't be true, it can't be!"

"No, Black," I said. "I'm not jesting."

"Yes, you are," said Black. "You can't be right. Lily – she – it can't be – what –" Black was becoming delirious, running his hands through his hair, pacing and muttering incoherent things.

"Black, sit _down_!" I commanded. To my amazement, he listened, plopping down in an armchair and only adding to the belief that he had finally completely lost it.

"Sirius, calm down, it's going to be all right," said Lupin quickly, reaching out and touching Black on the shoulder.

"No, he c-can't be right, Remus, he can't be!" Black said. "Lily – not Lily, not Lily, she can't be – James will haunt me forever – she can't – she's too _alive_ –" I knew exactly what Black meant when he said 'alive.' If I hadn't seen it myself, I too wouldn't have believed that someone like Lily, someone so happy and so spirited and so loving, could be dead.

"Uncle Moony," said Harry quietly, looking away from his godfather with frightened eyes and looking at Lupin. "Does this mean that I will never see Mummy alive again?"

"In this world, no, you won't," said Lupin. "She's gone, Harry, she's…gone." Harry's head bowed, and buried his face in Lupin's shoulder.

Black looked up from his mutterings, his eyes wild. "How come you have Harry? Were you there? What did Lily say?"

I sighed, took a deep breath, and told him everything that had happened in the hour. When I was finished, Lupin had sat down, a half-asleep Harry on his lap, idly stroking Harry's dark locks and biting his lip.

Lupin finally looked up, and his eyes met Black's. They had a conversation with their eyes in a code that I didn't understand, and that I longed for with all my being to be able to do with someone – with Lily. Like we had used to, once upon a time.

Lupin and Black looked at Harry, then at me, then at each other again. Lupin gave a slight nod.

"Well," said Black, gulping and having a look on his face as if he couldn't believe what he was about to do. He stood up. "I guess a thank you is in order." He stuck out his hand, and I shook it. We both let go very quickly. I shook Lupin's, and the same thing happened.

"Harry, you look sleepy, let's go tuck you into bed," said Lupin quietly. "Your godfather, Severus, and I have some things to discuss anyway."

"Okay," said Harry. Lupin lifted him up, and walked out of the room.

Black and I sat in awkward silence, not looking at each other, both of us engrossed in our own thoughts.

Lupin returned, looking relieved that we hadn't hexed or were screaming at each other. He conjured up some tea, and distributed it to us, keeping one for himself. Sitting down again, he absently swilled his tea around in his cup.

"What should we do now?" he asked finally. "I mean, what about Harry?"

"He'll live with us," said Black, immediately. "Snape, I don't give a shit if you want to or not, you are moving in here with us, because Remus and I aren't moving into your place."

"Actually, Black," I said. "That was what I was going to propose. It'll be best to train Harry if I live with him, like his mother wished."

"I believe everything except that," said Black. "That Lily would want you to train her son as if he was some weapon."

"Were you listening at all?" I asked irritably. "She said to train him and at the same time let him know he is loved."

"She didn't say anything to us," said Black. "She would've at least mentioned it. She said that Voldemort would come back, but nothing about training Harry. I don't believe you."

"If you think I'd lie about something like this Black," I said. "Then you're dumber than I thought."

And so began a very long day of talking, arguing, yelling, cajoling, name-calling, and decisions.

In the end, we were able to compromise. I would move into there, so that both I and Lupin and Black can raise and teach Harry. I will get to make my potions downstairs in the basement, where Lily had made all of her potions. Sirius would not be allowed to prank, hex, or charm me, and I the same to him and Remus, unless it is perfectly harmless (I don't like that particular compromise, seeing Black's face). We will begin teaching him when he turned eight (I wanted next year but both Black and Lupin refused).

It is two weeks later, and I have moved in completely in that house. I am on the second floor, which use to be red and gold, but I changed that. It's a pretty good room, I suppose. Not like my old home, but it fit my needs. My bed was a queen sized, and had a dark green bedspread and sheets. The dresser, the desk, and the bed posts were all made of ebony. My robes are in the closet, hidden behind two black closet doors. I have a stand for my raven, Silas, and the fireplace is lit with green fire. A door is in the wall, which leads to the basement where my potion lab is.

My potions lab was very well equipped. Lily was always very good at potions, so I wasn't surprised when I saw so many potion ingredients, some that I didn't have before, vials, beakers, two cabinets full of reinforcement ingredients, and a stack of cauldrons. The lab tables are all dark. Unlike some, Lily knew that it was easier to clean up with dark tables than others, because potions that go wrong can leave horrible stains.

And so, my old life has ended, and my new life, one filled with Harry and perhaps even happiness, has begun.

* * *

The rest of the story will be in Harry's view from now on. 


	3. Four Years Later

I know, I know, I had a very prolonged absence. I'm focusing on two other stories, and was going to delete this story and start it again when the other two were finished, but I decided against it. That way, if I run out of inspiration for the other two, I'll update this one and not feel like I'm neglecting you readers out there! So don't expect updates on a regular basis. However, they won't be so apart that you can't even remember if Severus is nice or not. That being said, I believe I can now write the chapter!

Sincerely,

JeanieBeanie33

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Harry Potter or any other character you recognize. The plot and any other character you don't recognize are mine, ALL MINE! MWAHAHAHA! muse smacks me Sorry about that. Anyway…

Chapter 3.Four Years Later

"Come on, Harry, we're going to be late!" Uncle Sev barked.

"He's coming, Severus, he's coming," said Remus, straightening Harry's tie. "Do you have your shoes tied?"

"Yes, Remus," Harry moaned, fidgeting in said shoes. He _hated_ this uniform, which was required to go to Chestnut Green (Sirius said the name reminded him of the camping trip they'd taken Harry on when he was seven). Boys had to wear gray cotton shorts that went down to the knee, short-sleeved white shirts, and green ties during the summer, and gray wool pants that went down to the ankles, long-sleeved white shirts, dark green blazers, and gray ties during the winter. Harry didn't know what girls wore, having only paid attention to the fact he'd have to dress up to go to _school_ of all places.

"Do I have to go?" he grumbled for probably the millionth time, all ready knowing the answer.

"Yes," said Remus tiredly, fingers folding Harry's collar. "I know that we taught you how to read and spell and to add and subtract all ready, but we think it'd be best if you experienced the muggle way of life first hand."

Harry nodded sullenly as he was lead out to the car, where Uncle Sev was waiting to drive them to school (he'd adamantly refused to let Sirius drive, saying "I'm not about to let someone who's gotten three speeding tickets drive a car with me in it with only a measly strap of nylon holding me from going through the windshield.") Harry shook his head at the memory. Uncle Sev could be so funny at times.

He climbed in, where Sirius was all ready sitting. Remus crawled into the seat next to Uncle Sev – somehow, the title 'uncle' only stuck with Severus, even though Harry had been calling Remus 'uncle' longer; 'godfather' had also been dropped – and they were off.

"Aw, speed it up, Snapey!" Sirius whined after a few moments.

"'Fraid not, Sirius," Uncle Sev drawled, looking at Sirius through the rear-view mirror. "I'd rather not go fifty miles above the speed limit in a tri-city area, thanks." Harry giggled as Sirius stuck his tongue out at Uncle Sev. In response, Uncle Sev flipped him the middle finger.

"Now really," said Remus reprovingly. "That lady thought it was directed at her, Severus."

"Blame the idiotic dingbat in the back," Uncle Sev replied absentmindedly, as insults (now said out of habit instead of with actual malice) thrown between him and Sirius happened at least five times a day.

"Four years later and he still can't come up with another insult," said Sirius to Harry, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"Oh, I can," said Uncle Sev casually, adjusting the wheel. "I have plenty, as a matter of fact. However, if you haven't noticed, there's impressionable ears listening, and I don't want them hearing such insults just yet."

"Aw, come on, how bad could they be?" said Sirius, tilting his head slightly so that a lock of glossy hair fell into his face.

"You seem to be forgetting that I was raised in the slums," said Uncle Sev. "And the slums are definitely not a very _civilized_ place to grow up in. Vile names are shouted so often there, it's like a second language. Now, if you are finished with your dim-witted questions, you'll notice that we have arrived." Harry, who had listened to Uncle Sev with rapt attention (it was very rare to hear him talk about his past), groaned quite loudly and obviously.

"Why do I have to go again?" he moaned again, crossing his arms and scowling at the neat brown hair that was the back of Remus's head.

"That's a very good question, Harry," said Uncle Sev. "You should learn from him, Black. Now, Remus, would you care to explain to me again _why_ on Earth you want to transform Harry into a midget in glasses _and_ a tie?"

"Because, Severus, it'll be good experience for him," said Remus, rolling his eyes and straightening his jacket, looking into the rearview mirror to check his appearance. Behind him, Sirius patted his hair, made kissy-lips, and batted his eyes at Remus, making Harry giggle again.

"Besides, he needs to have some other friends apart from magical ones," Remus said, now peering at Sirius suspiciously (he hadn't seen him do anything, but years of being Sirius's friend gave him a sort of radar sense of when Sirius was doing something). "Who knows, he might even stumble upon some muggleborns, or maybe even half bloods."

"Joy," Sirius deadpanned.

"I have to agree," said Uncle Sev sourly, getting out. "Beat it, Black. Even though you don't use it, and certainly don't act like it, you've all ready had a complete education. Harry, on the other hand, hasn't and is the reason we're here."

"Blah, blah, blah," said Sirius. "That's all I'm hearing. Come on, Harry, let's lead you to your new prison-I mean, school." Remus frowned, but didn't comment.

"Here are your things," he said, handing Harry a book bag. "It has all of your notebooks and pens and pencils in it. Now, remember what room you have to go to?"

"Room 115," Harry said clearly (A/N that's my homeroom!). Remus smiled.

"Good," he said.

"Remember to get into lots of trouble," said Sirius, winking and clapping him on the shoulder.

"Listen to your teachers, or you'll end up like your godfather," added Severus, allowing a brief smile.

"You make that like a bad thing," said Sirius, grinning up at him.

"For sane people it is," Severus responded. "Anyway, take care of yourself, Harry. And remember: _do not_ let loose anything about magic. If you think that someone might have magical powers, tell us their names. They might be half bloods."

"Good bye, Harry," said Sirius, giving him a hug. "Have a good first day at school. Leave an impression that you're a prankster, eat your food unless it's disgusting, sharpen your pencils, don't get your underwear in a bunch…"

"Sirius," Remus reprimanded, but a smile was on his face.

"…and don't smoke," said Sirius, completely ignoring Remus.

"Okay," said Harry, grinning.

"My little boy," said Sirius, pretending to wipe away a tear. "He's growing up so fast" He began to fake sob into his hands.

"Oh brother," said Uncle Sev, rolling his eyes.

"We've stalled long enough," said Remus, glancing at his watch. "Go on, or you'll be late." Harry nodded, and hurried to the stairs that led to the entrance. When he look back, he saw that Uncle Sev and Sirius were arguing (probably about who was going to drive) and Remus had this sort of dejected look on his face. He was the only one that waved at Harry. Harry turned, and walked through the steel doors.

He hurried down the hall, and down another (he'd gotten a tour of the school on registration day) until he finally saw a foot with a brass plaque above it reading 'Room 115 – Miss A. Carter.' Nervously, he made a vain attempt to tame his hair, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Inside was a room with a tile floor and pale blue walls. Signs such as 'Attitude is a _little_ thing that makes a BIG difference' were tacked up on the walls neatly, several rectangular desks were pushed into groups of four, a row of computers were going down the wall that the door was in, a closet where the book-bags were hung was at the end of the room, and a blackboard was at the front, a teacher's desk in front of it.

There was scarcely any room left in the closet, Harry saw, which fit because almost the entire class had arrived. He dug in his bag, pulled out the book he was reading as well as his notebooks and pencil pouch, zipped it back up, and then squeezed it between a green one. Turning around, he came face to face with a boy. The boy had blond hair, freckles, and pale blue eyes that looked a lot like Remus's.

"Oh, hello," said the boy. "Sorry if I startled you."

"Not at all," said Harry, and, deciding now was as good as any to make friends, he struck up a conversation. "I was just hanging my bag up. You need to put yours somewhere? You can put it up next to mine if you want."

"Sure," said the boy. Harry stepped aside, book clutching to his chest, and the boy reached up (he was rather short) and put his navy blue bag up on a hook.

"So, what's your name?" he asked, as they shut the door behind them.

"Harry, Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Blaine Logan," said Blaine(!). "So, where do you want to sit?"

"How about right here?" asked Harry, gesturing to a pair of empty seats right next to each other.

"Looks fine," replied Blaine. They both sat down, Harry placing his book on the table, just in time as the teacher, Mrs. Carter, walked in.

Miss Carter was a young, curvy-like woman with an attractive face, dark brown eyes, and brown hair that was up in a bun with two pencils through it. She was dressed in a dark blue skirt, white blouse, and a bright green tie that somehow seemed to fit, despite the dark colors of the rest of the outfit. Harry decided that he liked her, after studying her thoroughly. He had had this unnatural gift of knowing the character of a person by just watching them for a few moments.

However, before he could make any further deductions about his teacher, his view was blocked. Standing in front of him and Blaine was a girl with bushy brown hair and two large front teeth.

"Excuse me, but can I sit here?" she asked, biting her lip slightly.

"Go ahead," said Harry, shrugging. He picked up his book – Charlotte's Web – and craftily, just like Uncle Sev taught him, studied the girl over the top of it as she began to carefully, almost lovingly, lay her notebooks and pencil pouch on the table. Despite the bossy tone she'd used before, he picked up good vibes from her. Satisfied, he started to read until he was interrupted a few moments later.

"Y-you read E.B. White?" The shaky question came from the girl, and it was then that Harry realized she was nervous.

"Yeah," said Harry, carefully marking his page with the quill he used as a bookmark and setting the book aside. "You do too, then, I presume?"

"Yes," she said. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. May I ask who you are?"

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"And I'm Blaine Logan," Blaine piped in, looking up from the doodles he was drawing in his notebook.

"Nice to meet you," all three said in unison. Hermione giggled, Blaine blushed and a shy smile crept across his face, and a grin slowly spread across Harry's face. Something told him that Hermione, Blaine, and he would be good friends, very good friends indeed.

* * *

(!)Blaine Logan's name is a mixture of Blaine Larson, a new country singer whom I like, and the Logan family in Mildred D. Taylor's books, which I highly recommend.

Also, whenever you seethis (!) next to a sentence or something, that means there's a note at the bottom about it.


	4. Teachers, New Friends, and Bloomers

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Harry Potter or any other character you recognize. The plot, any character you don't recognize, and any pranks mentioned are mine, ALL MINE! MWAHAHAHA :muse smacks me: Sorry about that. Anyway…

Chapter 4: Teachers, New Friends, and Bloomers

School turned out to be much better than Harry thought it would. Although his very best friends were Hermione and Blaine, he got along well with the other kids, too.

In Harry's homeroom, there was a lively, loud, and skinny boy named Dalton Wilkins, who was from the United States and had moved to England just a few months ago. Dalton was bucktoothed and had dark brown hair that was in a bowl cut. Very outspoken, he hung out with Mark Dusk, a quiet, plump black boy with very short hair and a voice that was deep for a nine-year-old. Then there was Susan Cummings, a freckle-faced, blue-eyed girl with thin red hair always tied back into a ponytail, and Anne Sullivan, Susan's best friend, a curly-haired girl with a pale, heart-shaped face.

In Harry's history class, there was a pink-faced girl with blond hair in pigtails named Hannah Abbott, who Harry strongly suspected was a muggleborn witch because he once saw her accidentally repair her broken pencil. Also, there was Dylan Schwartz, who had a slight trouble pronouncing his s's and crystal blue eyes that were almost as pale as Blaine's. He usually hung around Melody Pfeiffer ("just Mel, please!") and Tyler Agnew. Melody was a thin, outspoken girl with long red hair, many freckles, and light brown eyes. Tyler was a short boy with brown hair cut short and grayish-green eyes, and always wore his tie slightly lopsided, whether on purpose or not Harry never knew.

There was Jory Bright, Emily Donstick, Johnny Zimmerman, and Cecilia Taxton, all from Harry's science class. Jory had short blond hair and many freckles, and was really lanky and tall. Emily had brown hair that was always in braided pigtails, and a rather pretty face. Jordan had a serious face, but was anything but (kind of like Sirius); he had bright red hair, dark green eyes, and seemingly always a loose tooth that he was moving around with his tongue. Cecilia had long black hair and was very tan, and had brown, fawn-like eyes.

Also in Harry's science class were the Jenkins triplets, all girls: Anna, Nikki, and Sarah. They were completely identical on the outside (save for the hairstyle) and completely different on the inside. All three had pleasant, pale faces, dark hair, and viridian eyes. Anna, however, sported hair pulled back by a blue headband; Nikki's hair was long and worn loose; Sarah's hair was the same length as Nikki's only hers hung in braid down her back. Anna was more of the studious type, kind of like Hermione, and always was reading a book or writing down story ideas in her notebook (she said she wanted to be an author one day). Nikki was more of the girly-girl type, very talkative and knew everything about everybody (except Harry, which was why she was constantly asking him questions about his life; he always ignored her until one of her sisters led her away). Sarah was the sporty type, playing basketball, soccer, baseball, and football just as good as any of the guys; she also liked to swim and play volleyball.

Math class had a serious-faced, violet-eyed boy named Danny Thine, who shared Harry's love of chess (his mother had taught him before she died) and had hair the color of a very dark cherry. Two other boys, Tommy Winston and Michael Hirsch, usually accompanied him. Tommy was brown-haired, blue-eyed, freckle-faced, athletic, and very mischievous. Michael had a round, boyish face, brown eyes, and blond hair, and was also very mischievous, often helping Tommy drag Danny into trouble (although Danny mostly managed to get himself out of trouble).

Unfortunately, wherever pleasant people were, unpleasant people were bound to follow. In this case, it was Taylor Freedman, Matthew Woods, and Stuart Klinger, all in Harry's P.E. period. Taylor was a plump boy with an obnoxious voice, pinched eyes, and thick dark hair – he slightly reminded Harry of what he could remember of his cousin Dudley Dursley, from his small stay at the Dursleys' when he was little. Matthew was a muscular looking boy with a pudgy nose, a round, freckled face, thick eyebrows and short dark hair. Stuart had blondish hair, high cheekbones, brown eyes the color of mud, and a wide, thin-lipped mouth that never seemed to close – including lunch time, which was why watching him eat usually made Harry want to quit eating. Taylor, Matthew, and Stuart were constantly causing trouble: calling people names, bullying little kids, purposely bumping into other people, beating other kids up, and pushing kids' books out of their hands.

It was the last one that caused Harry to the meet the unpleasant group that had Taylor as the leader.

"Hey, Harry," said Blaine brightly outside the classroom door after lunch that day. "Excited about today?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "This is the day we're going to make that rocket in science, right?"

"Yeah," said Blaine. "I can't wait!"

"Of course not," said Harry. "You're a science freak!" Suddenly, his books went flying. The impact of whatever had hid them had Harry falling forward a few feet. Cooling his features so that none of the anger boiling inside of him was shown (like Uncle Sev had taught him), Harry looked at the three kids that were laughing at him.

"Why did you push my books?" Harry said calmly, looking up at the boy from where he was gathering his fallen books.

"'Cause I wanted to, four-eyes," sneered Taylor.

"Why?" asked Harry, remembering Sirius telling him to say it at times like this because it usually made the bullies speechless, confused, or frustrated. "I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want to have your books knocked out of your hands, so why did you do it to me?"

Taylor was confused. Everyone who'd he'd ever bullied had always shown fear, misery, or at least anger. This kid – his last name was Porter, or something – didn't seem affected at all, instead gathering up his books and talking to him calm as can be.

Like most nine-year-old boys with behaviors like Taylor's, whenever they got confused, they also got mad. Taylor was no exception.

"Who do you think you are?" Taylor snapped.

"I don't think, I know," said Harry, finally rising, his books in his arms, looking Taylor in the eye (!). "My name is Harry Potter. I'm not in your class, but I see you bullying others all the time. If you plan on doing the same thing to me, I'll tell you this – I won't put up with it. You have a problem with me, please tell me right now, else stop bullying me, or I'll fight you back. I'm not scared of you, Taylor, or your thugs, and I won't put up with you bothering me."

"We'll do whatever we want," Stuart piped up, walking up from drinking from the water fountain. "And that includes pushing you, Potter!" Harry switched his emerald-colored eyes to meet Stuart's mud-colored ones, but before he could say anything to him, Hermione beat him to it.

"No, you won't!" she said angrily. "Or else I'll tell Headmistress Salisbury. She'll put a stop to this bullying."

"Go read a book, you know-it-all!" snapped Matthew, curling up his fists.

"At least she _can_ read!" Blake said, with uncharacteristic nastiness.

"I can read!" said Matthew.

"Books with only three-lettered words don't count, Woods," snapped Dalton from behind Harry spitefully.

"Go back to your savage country, Bucky!" said Taylor angrily.

"What are you doing?" said a prefect, coming up. She eyed Matthew's raised fists and Harry's locked jaw. "Not starting a fight, are you? Freedman, Woods, Klinger, you've all ready been to the headmistress's office twice this week, you can't afford to again. Get to class before I report you." Taylor, Matthew, and Stuart slunk away. The prefect turned to Harry and everyone else. "All right, the rest of you, if you don't belong to this classroom, then I suggest you move along also. Go on, scatter!"

The crowd broke up, and Harry turned to his classmates.

"Thanks for standing up for me," he said.

"Don't mention it," said Dalton. "Besides, I've heard better insults from an egg-brained cartoon teenager named Beavis." Everyone stared at him.

"I'm guessing that's an American thing?" asked Anna cautiously, giving Dalton an odd look.

"Yeah," said Dalton. "Come on, let's get to class. I wanna make something explode!"

&8$$&&(&$#(!#$($&!$#

Since this was a school, that meant that if there were students in it, there had to be teachers. Chestnut Green was no different. It also had a very interesting, very mismatched group of fourth grade teachers.

First, there was Mr. Phillip Fairbairn, the Math teacher. He had a plump body and a round head perched on top like a coconut, a splotchy face, a pudgy nose, and thick-rimmed glasses. However, he was funny and very witty, and got along well with the students; on the whole, a nice enough man, and was at least one of everyone's favorite teachers. Harry had been quick to rise in his defense when Sirius had mentioned Mr. Fairbairn had "had one donut too many!"

Then there was Miss Andrea Carter (!), the spelling, reading, and grammar teacher, and Harry's homeroom. She was definitely one of Harry's favorite teachers. While she took attendance, she had them sit cross-legged on their desks when she called their name. She played fun games with them like Spelling Baseball. She gave out pretzels to whoever was quiet during reading time and to the team that won Spelling Baseball.

Next in line was Mrs. M. Appleton (no one knew what the 'M' stood for), a stern but funny woman from New York City, New York, who taught History (!). Half of the fourth grade didn't like her, a quarter got along with her and liked her enough, and the last quarter idolized her. She was very sassy, prone to sarcasm and putting on exaggerated expressions (whether they were real or not, Harry wasn't sure) when surprised or angered, and often dressed like a drama club teacher would (shirts used as sashes, skinny-legged dress pants, tank tops with shirts draped over the shoulders, hats, etc.). She was tall and had short, thick auburn hair and high cheekbones, and always wore lipstick.

Also there was Mrs. Elisabeth Bardkick (!4), who taught science. She was a bit like Mrs. Appleton, only British. Also, her face wasn't as expressive and she was about twenty years younger. She was also tall, had dark, shoulder length brown hair, and dark hazel eyes. She also had a twisted sense of humor: she once berated Hermione for knowing the answer to every question, and let her sweat for about a minute before bursting out laughing and telling her she didn't mean it. She was not Hermione's favorite teacher (or one of them, anyway).

After Mrs. Bardkick, there was Mr. Dawson (!5), the P.E. teacher. He was quite young, about Miss Carter's age, which was either early thirties or late twenties. He had short, dark hair, slightly beady gray eyes, and large hands. He was also very good at basketball and volleyball, which was why half of second term was going to be dedicated to both (so he said).

Last, and definitely the most boring, was Mrs. Dorothea Dunkirk, who taught Art. She was stern, strict, and was (according to Blaine's brain) about 0.5 on the sense of humor scale. Her hair was graying and always pulled back in a tight bun, her lips were thin, and she had a badly drawn beauty mark. Also, much to everyone's amusement (or horror), she had drawn-on eyebrows, earning her the nickname "Fly-Away Eyebrows." (!6) Not many students liked her, not even Hermione, save for about ten people (most of them bullies that acted angelic toward her; the others were suck-ups).

Overall, there was a mismatched group of teachers. None of Harry's classes were boring, in any case, save Mrs. Dunkirk's.

This was why she was the only teacher who was going to be a target by Harry, Blaine, and Hermione.

&8$$&&(&$#(!#$($&!$#

"Is it clear or not, Hermione?" Harry asked, carefully balancing the huge bucket of clear vinegar (Blaine held a bottle of it, just in case they didn't have enough, as well as one of glue and of polish). They were standing in the janitor's closet after lunch (everyone else was still in the cafeteria), about to pull the first prank of the year. Apart from the vinegar and glue, there was also a roll of twine and scissors in Blaine's left hand. Hermione wasn't carrying anything except a rubber frog, and was standing outside the closet (all three of them agreed she was most likely to cause the least amount of suspicion).

"Yes, it's clear," said Hermione, biting her lip from her position outside the closet door. "Are you sure it's okay to do this?"

"No, but I am sure that it's not okay to do this," said Blaine cheerfully. "But we're going to do it anyway!"

"But, won't we get into trouble?" said Hermione, as they maneuvered down the hallway to room 119.

"Only if we get caught," said Harry, careful to try not to make noise with his sneakers (he was wearing his quiet ones just for the occasion). "Besides, Hermione, we'll take the wrap so you're record isn't ruined, I promise."

"That's not what I'm worried about," whispered Hermione. "If you get caught, then you'll constantly be under inspection every time you come to school! Teachers will never take their eyes of you, so if you so much as walk fast in the hallway you'll get a detention!"

Blaine stared at her. Harry raised his eyebrows in a way that was a lot like his Uncle Sev.

"Didn't know you cared so much," he said simply.

"Well, you know…" Hermione said, flustered. "I don't want you to – it's just that – it's not like that, obviously – but I –"

"Let it go, Hermione," said Blaine wisely. "Let it go." Hermione gave a nervous grin, as they finally reached Mrs. Dunkirk's room.

"We have six minutes," said Harry wisely. "Let's do it!"

"Yeah!" said Blaine, with a devilish grin. He started to unroll the twine…

&8$$&&(&$#(!#$($&!$#

It was exactly seven minutes later when the prank truly began. Harry nodded to Blaine, and then to Hermione, like in one of them old spy movies. Harry got up, and went to get a drink of water. Ten seconds later, Hermione took a deep breath, cooled her features, and grabbed her homework (draw one of the rooms inside their houses), which was deliberately partially unfinished. She walked resolutely to the desk at the side of the room, to Mrs. Dunkirk's desk.

Mrs. Dunkirk looked down her nose at Hermione expectantly, one drawn-on eyebrow raised.

"Mrs. Dunkirk, I was wondering if you could help me on this…" she said, adopting an innocent expression. _'Wow, I have acting abilities?_' she thought.

Blaine got up, with the innocent excuse of sharpening his pencil. He went by Dunkirk's desk, and with a flick of his wrist, dropped the rubber frog on it. Meanwhile, Harry passed him and kneeled down to tie his shoe, using his right shoulder to partially obscure the view, while he reached down and grabbed the twine, tying it to the ribbon that had 'converse' sown on it that was on the outside heel of his shoe. He went to his desk and sat down, picking up his pencil and tapping his chin, pretending to think, while in actuality he was waiting for Mrs. Dunkirk to discover the frog.

Blaine came back to the seat next to Harry's, and began to draw a lion that went by the name of Pencil that he'd invented (he wanted to be a cartoonist when he grew up, like Charles Schultz).

Hermione was quietly berated by Mrs. Dunkirk for "such an idiotic question," and was shown how to draw a corner of a room (she all ready knew how, of course, but this was a part of the prank). She pretended to act demeaned as she went back to her desk. A bully sniggered at her. In a rare moment of immaturity, she stuck out her tongue at him.

Mrs. Dunkirk frowned at Hermione, pretending to be disappointed in her (which she was doing very badly), while on the inside, she congratulated herself on deflating the little know-it-all girl. It was pathetic, but she refused to admit it, telling herself she was really just preparing Granger for the outside world.

She looked down on her paper, and her eyes bugged out of her skull. There was a big, ugly frog, his beady eyes staring at her.

Now, what you must know, is that Dorothea Dunkirk had a conspicuous fear of all amphibians, reptiles, and just about anything else that was cold-blooded and had a long tail (the reason why she always gave a lower-than-deserved grade to people who made statues of such things). She took great pride in her class, Art, because the only sort of "creepy-crawly," as she called them, that she would find would be in paintings and pictures (but not, as mentioned above, as statues). That was why seeing a frog, an ugly, nasty, slimy (even though it wasn't at all slimy) frog, in here, in this room, her sanctuary, was so upsetting.

Perhaps if it hadn't been in the classroom, on her desk (of all things), instead at home in the yard or at a museum or the park or even in the school's parking lot, then she wouldn't have reacted as strongly, and thus Harry, Blaine, and Hermione's prank wouldn't have worked as sufficiently. Nevertheless, it was, and that is what triggered the melodramatic reaction.

Mrs. Dunkirk screamed, making several students jump, and leaped up from her chair to the side. As she began backing away, Harry jerked his leg backward, making the twine raise off the ground abruptly, tripping Mrs. Dunkirk. Falling backwards, she unknowingly landed on a river of vinegar. Combined with that, the newly polished floor (courtesy of the bottle of polish), and her momentum, she slid down the floor, drawing many laughs from the watching students.

With good reason, too! Because she'd fallen so quickly, her legs were sticking up awkwardly, her arms were flung out, her drawn-on and ridiculously dark eyebrows were unevenly raised; her eyes were wide open in a cartoon-like way; and her mouth was comically open so that her beauty mark was even more obviously phony. That she was screaming in a very high-pitched way didn't help matters.

Almost at the end of the room (her desk was just a few feet away from the corner) she unexpectedly came to a stop. Some of the students groaned, thinking it was over, and apparently, she did as well Mrs. Dunkirk let out a breath, and put her feet on the floor and tried to pull herself up. Her bottom stuck to the floor. Frowning, she put her hands on the floor and pushed, trying to raise herself. There was a ripping noise, as she was finally completely off the floor. Staggering slightly, she managed to stand upright (Harry couldn't help but admire her, as most muggles her age couldn't do that). It was only when she realized her hand was sticky and she looked down on it, did she see there was glue on it. With a feeling of sick dread, it suddenly hit her as to why it'd been so hard to get up. She slowly looked down, and saw a wide rectangular section of her skirt on the floor where she'd been stuck. Her cheeks burned bright red, and almost unwillingly, she turned sideways to see, so that everyone could see the bright patch of pink bloomers.

This was too much for the class! Everyone immediately burst out laughing. Dalton and Dylan both fell out of their chairs, and pounded the floor with their fists. Tommy and Michael were beside themselves, pointing at each other and Mrs. Dunkirk and laughing and uttering sentences only the other understood. Harry and Blaine were doubled-up over their desks, laughing uncontrollably. Danny, normally very conserved, was hiccupping from laughing so hard. No one, however, was as spectacular as Hermione: her face was bright red, tears running down it; her upper-body was hanging limply on her desk; and she was half-laughing, half-coughing so hard that Harry had to reach over from his own hapless-with-laughter state and pound her on the back.

It was some time before anyone was able to talk, and, although Mrs. Dunkirk tried to get them to quiet, her normally imposing figure was ruined by the fact that, while she'd turned around, her pink bloomers were reflected in the window. Michael managed to choke out "Lovely bloomers, Mrs. D!" and Tommy recovered long enough to ask "Did you get them from Victoria's Secret?" which brought another bout of laughter.

Finally, Mr. Cankamp, the deputy headmaster, walked in because of all the laughter. He took one look at the laughing class, then at Mrs. Dunkirk whose bloomers could still be seen in the window, and let out a loud chuckle. He quickly turned it into a cough, turning away, and when he faced the class once again, his face was oddly pinched, as if he was trying hard not to laugh.

"You may go to the office, Mrs. Dunkirk," he managed to say. "I'm sure that Mrs. Doan will be able to lend you something to – cover up with." His face became even more pinched.

"Thank you, Mr. Cankamp," Mrs. Dunkirk said awkwardly, her face, if possible, turning even redder. The class, which had regained some sort of control because of Mr. Cankamp, let out another round of chuckles and snickers when Mrs. Dunkirk placed the back of her hands on her bottom and quickly waddled out.

Mr. Cankamp shut the door after her, and there was a moment of silence, save Mrs. Dunkirk's quick steps outside in the hallway, until they finally died away.

Mr. Cankamp walked to Mrs. Dunkirk's desk, sat down, put his head in his hands, and promptly exploded into laughter.

* * *

(!) I took some artistic license and made Harry a bit taller. Personally, I think he would've if he had been raised differently, because he would've been fed more and wouldn't havelived in a cupboard for ten years. 

(!) Miss Carter is based on two people, my friend Andrea, who is a teacher (though never one of mine)and who is the basis for how Miss Carter looks as well as her first name; and my old fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Jones, who is the basis for Miss Carter's personality and the game "Spelling Baseball."

(!) Mrs. M. Appleton is based on my old sixth grade Literature teacher, although as you can tell, she teaches history in this story. She both looks and acts like the real Mrs. Appleton.

(!4) Points to who can figure out the interesting twist to Mrs. Bardkick's name!

(!5) Mr. Dawson is based on a PE teacher at my school, Mr. Champley.

(!6) There is a teacher at my school who also goes by that nickname for the same reason. I haven't had her yet, and I hope I never do, because from what I hear, Mrs. Dunkirk and this teacher are very much alike.

Okay, that's all for (!)'s. What did you think of the chapter? The prank? The characters? Let me know in a REVIEW!

**Seta Kaede**, do me a favor and tell Blaine (if you're still in touch) that I love his song "How Do You Get That Lonely."

Everyone else, thank you very much for reviewing! They just make my day.

Sincerely, JeanieBeanie33


	5. The New Neighbor

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Harry Potter or any other character you recognize. The plot, any character you don't recognize, and any pranks mentioned are mine, ALL MINE! MWAHAHAHA! TAKE THAT, YOU EVIL LAWYERS:muse smacks me: Sorry about that.

**Chapter 5: The New Neighbor**

Click. Clang. Snap. Click. Bang, BANG! "Damn it!" Sirius withdrew his head from his car, scowling, his face dotted with black spots of grease, his hand rubbing the sore spot on the back of his skull.

"Cut that out, Sirius, Harry's listening!" Remus shouted from the greenhouse, where he and Harry were watering the plants. It was the middle of September, and was unusually sunny and warm, so Remus, Sirius, and Harry were spending their time outside.

Sirius made a face in the direction of the greenhouse, and was bending down to retrieve the wrench he had dropped somewhere in the engine, when something caught his eye. An orange, square something.

It was a U-Haul truck.

"Remus, come look!" Sirius yelled. "Someone's moving in." A few moments later, Remus, Harry, and even Uncle Sev had come up front (Uncle Sev had been sitting at the kitchen table grading papers; it was the weekend so he'd taken the chance to come home by Floo). Uncle Sev was, for once, wearing muggle clothes: black jeans, navy-blue shirt, and heeled black shoes.

"Wonder who they are," Harry mused, his face wet (he and Remus had been having a water fight before Sirius had called them).

"Must be moving into the house across the street," said Sirius, as the truck finally stopped.

"Where else would they move?" said Remus. "The only people who have moved recently were the Bookers. Isn't that right, Sirius?" He added the last part in a stern tone.

"Oh, come on, I already apologized for that," said Sirius, annoyed.

"Personally, I'm surprised it didn't happen before the lawn gnome incident," Uncle Sev drawled. "Although I am still curious on what exactly possessed you to charm them to dance the Macarena at three in the morning."

"I was drunk, okay?" Sirius said, scowling at Uncle Sev. "It'd been a rough week."

"So you went and drowned yourself in alcohol when you had a nine-year-old godson living with you?" Uncle Sev asked, arching an eyebrow. "Very responsible, Black."

"Let's just try to make a good impression today, alright?" Remus interrupted hastily, sensing a fight brewing. It was in vain, however.

"Alright," said Sirius. He looked at Uncle Sev. "You'd better go in the house, Snape, or else you'll scare them off."

"You're more likely to scare them off then I am," Uncle Sev retorted. "Especially if you have another rough week."

"It looks like just one woman," Harry interrupted, scrutinizing the truck and the woman that was opening the back of it up. "I guess she's living alone. Can I go and meet her?"

"We all will, right now," said Remus. "She probably needs help with her things, anyway. Come on, you two, and please, try to act serious. Not a word, Sirius," he added warningly, as Sirius opened his mouth. Sirius sighed dramatically, shut his mouth with an audible click, and headed over to the house adjacent to them.

"You need some help with that?" he called.

The woman turned around, a box in her hands. She wasn't very striking – brown hair, blue eyes, tan skin, perhaps a little Spanish blood – and was wearing muggle clothes: cut off jeans, a blue Gap T-Shirt, an old fisherman hat, and old trainers with holes in the front so her toes stuck out. The woman appeared to be in her late-twenties.

"Well, I wouldn't deny needing it, so yes, if it's not too much trouble," she said in reply to Sirius's question. She smoke with an accent that was a lot like Dalton Wilkins', only hers didn't have that slight drawl that Dalton's did.

"You don't sound from around here," said Sirius.

"Nope, I'm from Los Angeles in good old sunny California, in the States," said the woman, smiling at her new four neighbors.

"Must be a big climate change," Remus remarked.

"Not meaning to sound rude, but yes," said the woman, with such feeling that everyone, save Uncle Sev, couldn't help but grin; Harry already liked her. "Don't know how you Brits can deal with it, it'd've killed me. Me is Heather Valderez, by the way. And you are?"

"I'm Sirius Black, the weather-talking man is Remus Lupin, the freaky, pale, vampire-looking guy is Severus Snape, and this adorable little devil standing next to me is my godson, Harry Potter," said Sirius, putting on a winning smile, messing up Harry's hair so that it was even unrulier.

"Pleased to meet you," said Heather, smiling at them. "Not meaning to sound rude, but I really must get this stuff into the house. I've got to go conclude some stuff with my new boss in two hours."

"Well, let me keep my word and help you," said Sirius. "Just tell us where you want your stuff to go."

The next hour and a half was spent lugging Heather's possessions into whatever room she directed them, she herself carrying the less-heavier things. They finally finished, and were sitting on Heather's porch, drinking lemonade Harry had made the day before.

"So, what is your job, if you don't mind me asking?" said Remus.

"Officially, I'm a writer for a newspaper," said Heather, "and I've got a book in the works that I'm hoping to finish. I'm definitely what you would call an academic person."

"My best friends are like that," said Harry. "Those two qualities describe them best. Blaine's the artist and Hermione's the bookworm." Heather smiled at him.

"And you? What are you into?" she asked.

"I like to read, but I'm horrible at drawing," said Harry. "I like to play basketball and football, too. My friend Dalton, who's from Kentucky, said that British football is known as soccer in America."

"He's right," said Heather, nodding. "What grade are you in, Harry?"

"Fourth," said Harry. "I was home schooled, but Remus and Sirius and Uncle Sev wanted me to get to know other kids."

"Correction, _Remus_ wanted you to go to school," said Uncle Sev, shooting said man an irritated look. "Though I am unaware on why he decided you had to go to one that sounds like a hybrid of a tree and grass seed."

"I go to Chestnut Green Elementary School," Harry explained, at Heather's quizzical look. "You have to wear a uniform to go there."

"That must be the bee's knees," said Heather, grinning.

"I hope you're being sarcastic," said Harry.

"Naturally," said Heather. She directed her next question at the three men. "So, what do you three do?"

"I'm a professor," said Uncle Sev.

"Police man," said Sirius (which was partly true; he was an Auror).

"I work at a private library at the university," said Remus (he actually worked in the research office at the Ministry of Magic; in the years since Voldemort's fall, werewolves' rights had steadily grown in number, which was why Remus had access to more, higher-paying jobs now).

"That's cool," said Heather. "I'm actually planning to own my own bookstore one day, so that's a bit like your job."

"A bit," said Remus, smiling politely.

"Might need some help, if I ever do manage to scrimp up enough money to actually do it," said Heather, "once I get this place cleaned up. I had wanted to move here in the spring so I could get all my stuff finished and then get started on a garden."

"You like gardening?" said Harry. "So does Remus! I like to do it sometimes, as well."

"Amazing!" said Heather. "A boy who likes gardening! Britain truly is a wondrous place. When I was a kid I could hardly get my brothers to take turns watering my plants when I was away from home."

"Harry's definitely not an ordinary child," said Uncle Sev, a sliver of fondness in his usually cold black eyes; Lily Evans' son had definitely grown onto him in the past years, just as he had grown onto Harry. "He's more responsible and intelligent than those snot-pickers that are his classmates.

"Uncle Sev!" Harry exclaimed. "My friends don't pick their noses!"

"Perhaps," said Uncle Sevn, not the slightest bit ruffled. "You'd have to watch them every second of every day and night to truly know."

"How do you know they pick their noses?" Sirius threw at him. "Perhaps from experience, _Severus_?"

"Not at all," said Uncle Sev. "It's just that I had a lot of classmates that did just that thing, particularly a long-haired _dog_ in History class first year."

"Are they always like this?" asked an amused Heather, as Uncle Sev and Sirius began a full-scale argument. Harry was listening, starting to laugh as the taunts and threats got even more ridiculous and creative.

"Pretty much, yes," said Remus. "I often feel like I'm in a war zone. They've gotten better over the years since Severus moved in."

"Why did he move in," asked Heather, "if you don't mind me asking? Is he's Harry's father or something?"

"Of course not, although there was a time when I thought that he would be," said Remus (!). He lowered his voice so Harry wouldn't hear. "Severus was a friend of Harry's mother, even her boyfriend once upon a time. Sirius and I were more of Harry's father's friends, although that changed when James and Lily married. James died a year after Harry was born in a car accident."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Heather, giving Remus a sympathetic look.

"It's alright, we're all better now," said Remus, smiling thinly. "Still miss him, but it doesn't hurt as much." He took a breath, mentally willing himself to not cry. "Lily died a few years later when Harry was four, from the cold – she caught it after dancing in the rain. She always did like it when it either snowed or rained." Remus smiled at his own words, unknowingly voicing the thoughts of hook-nosed Potions Master (!). He continued. "She shocked us all when we heard she listed Severus as one of Harry's guardians, apart from Sirius and I. Fitting, though, I suppose, especially since he was there when she died in the hospital. I didn't think it would work out – the guardianship, that is. James and Sirius and Severus never got along; they fought like cats and dogs when we were at school; all of us went to a boarding school. It did work out, though – Severus would move in, both had to can the worst of the comments, and Sirius couldn't prank Severus. A little kid at heart, Sirius is."

"He looks and sounds like it," Heather agreed, smiling. "Very rare, since most adults I've met are so serious. It's funny, in my opinion. Sirius is his name, but he's anything but, while most of the adults I've met are not named Sirius but that's exactly what they are. It's a wonderful thing, to be able to keep that child in you even when you're older."

"I've always thought that, too," said Remus. "Must be the dreamers in us."

Heather nodded, smiling slightly, and absently checked her watch. Her eyes widened comically, and she jumped up.

"Oh, dear, I'm going to be late!" she exclaimed. "Sirius, Mr. Snape, as amusing as it is to watch you argue, I'm afraid you're going to take it back to your house. I lost track of time."

"Well, then I guess we'll take our leave," said Remus. "It was nice to meet you, Heather."

"You, too," said Heather. "All of you. Hope to see you soon, but I've got to jet."

"Bye," said Harry, waving, as he and his guardians left.

Heather smiled after them, watching Remus in particular. She really enjoyed talking to him; he wasn't too boring or too immature, but just right. Still, there seemed to be a hidden darkness about him; he was very thin, perhaps too thin than was healthy, and there were shadows in his eyes. That was because there was a full moon coming up, although Heather didn't know that.

There was a dreamy smile on her face, broken only by the bark of a dog that came from somewhere in the neighborhood, and Heather checked her watch again, cursing as she saw she only had ten minutes to get to that meeting.

Remus could wait; right now, she had to find a way to get to her new office in less than ten minutes when it took at least fifteen.

Meanwhile, back at the Most Noble and Ancient House of Marauders, Sirius jostled Remus's shoulder as both he and Severus sat down; Severus to grade papers, Sirius to annoy him. Harry went to the greenhouse to see if his plant had grown any in the past two hours. Remus started to make tea, also making a mental note to go to Heather's to get back the container that had had the lemonade in it.

"I think she likes you, Moony," Sirius teased. "Kept talking to you the whole time."

"That's only because you and Severus were too busy arguing, and Harry was listening to you," said Remus, hoping Sirius couldn't see his red ears. "That reminds me. You didn't say anything too vulgar, did you?"

"No, although he did try," said Severus. "_I_ was careful to stop him whenever he sounded like he was beginning to."

"Oh, puh-lease," said Sirius, sticking his tongue out at Severus. "As if that was the real reason! Anyway, back on subject – she's digging you, Moony! I heard American girls like the quiet type, and you're certainly the quiet type –"

"And you're certainly not," Severus muttered, as he picked up his pen and put a big, black D on the paper in front of him.

"– and I prefer women with long hair, anyhow," Sirius finished, ignoring Severus. "Although her eyes are a very lovely shade of dark blue, if I do say so myself. You could do worse, Remmie."

"One, don't call me Remmie," said Remus, turning around with a full tea pot in one hand and three cups in the other. "Two, stop talking about Heather like she's a bit of merchandise, it's disgusting. Three, we just met, so don't go talking about how nice we would look in front of her or else you'll probably make her think you're a psycho."

"Haven't you learned anything, Remus?" Severus drawled, looking up from another D paper. "He is a psycho."

"Don't push it, Snape," said Sirius, scowling at him. He looked at Remus, impish smile on his face. "Oh, come on, Moony. Even if I was stupid enough to talk to her about how good you two would look in front of her, she would probably laugh. She has a nice sense of humor – a bit brisk, but definitely able to laugh."

"Great, I'll keep that in mind," said Remus absentmindedly, discarding Sirius's thoughts. It was true, he was attracted to her in a way, but she probably wasn't attracted to him; he was skinny, his hair was already starting to get gray (thanks to his lycanthropy), and he wasn't what ladies called handsome.

With those thoughts in mind, he poured the tea for his two fellow guardians, took his own cup and saucer, and wondered into the library (there was also a study, but it unofficially belonged to Severus since he used it the most). He needed to look up what fertilizer would be best for lilies on the Internet (Harry had begged for a computer until he was blue in the face, and "just to keep him quiet" Severus had ordered one for him for Christmas the year before). Remus smiled forlornly as he sat down, not typing anything but just staring at a photo of a pretty red-haired woman with almond-shaped green eyes, holding a young boy about three or four years of age on her lap.

Harry didn't say it, Severus didn't say it, Sirius didn't say it, and Remus himself didn't say it, but it was known, in unspoken but unanimous agreement, that the lily plants were the most important and most taken cared of plants in the entire greenhouse. You just had to see Severus Snape, his usually clean, black-clad figure traded for worn jeans and an old, sometimes dirty shirt, kneeling in front of them with a spray bottle in garden-gloved hand to know it.

It was just one of the ways that the past was remembered.

#&$(!&#!$# #$?&$&$?

What Remus didn't know, was that a certain star-named best friend of his had gone to his own room (decorated in dark red and black), and sat in his comfortable red barber chair with his fingers set in front of him, their tips barely touching, thinking of the past as well, only in a different way.

Sirius Black was not what you would call sensitive; true, he wasn't as careless as most people thought he was, but he wasn't the curly-haired, red-headed chap in the corner reading poetry aloud, either. Even he, though, could see that Remus needed someone.

He'd known Remus since they were eleven and on the Hogwarts Express; he and James had been running from the chaos they'd caused in Bellatrix's cabin (making the floors and walls sticky and the owl cages attracted to hair), Bellatrix screaming for her fellow Slytherins (among them Lucius Malfoy and the Lestrange brothers) to catch them, when they had darted into a spare cabin that had been empty save for a pale, brown-haired boy with dark circles under his eyes, reading a thick and tattered book. Sirius had asked if it was okay that they "hide out at his fort for a while" and the boy had smiled shyly and quietly said that he didn't mind. James had introduced himself, Sirius following, and the boy, in that same quiet voice, said his name was Remus Lupin. The three had been together ever since.

All throughout their Hogwarts years, Sirius and James had chased half of the girls there, James finally calming down in seventh year to try to win over Lily. Both Remus and Sirius had helped him – actually, most of the time it had been Remus, as he had a better idea on how and what James had to change about himself than Sirius did. There were only a few girls, however, that Remus went out with, and the relationships didn't last that long, to Sirius' secret dismay. Privately he thought that Remus deserved a woman more than anyone else in their group did. However, there didn't ever seem to be one that really fit Remus; there was never one that deserved to be that lucky girl sitting on his armrest reading over Remus's shoulder, one of Remus's hands holding her own.

That's why, a little over ten years after graduation, Sirius was ready to start what he considered to be one of his most important mission plans (and that included those that he came up with when Voldemort was in power). He was going to help Remus get a girl…and not just any girl. Remus was going to get the one girl that Sirius had seen him really connect with, who had really seemed to fit and stick in every situation Sirius could think of that Remus could ever be in.

He was going to get Heather Valderez.

However, Sirius knew he wasn't going to be able to do this on his own. He was going to need help, and there was only one person in the whole world that he trusted enough to make this work (apart from himself). A decided look on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his right eye (usual characteristics that always appeared when he was planning something big), Sirius got up from his barber chair, went over to his desk, sat down, got out a quill and a piece of paper, and began to write.

A woman was always required in a matchmaking scheme, after all.

* * *

(!) Reread chapter one. I've edited it a bit, as well as chapter two. 

(!) Once again, reread chapter one.

There it is, chapter five. The idea of a female character has been tugging at my brain for quite some time now, so Heather Valderez has come into being. Like her, dislike her, not sure yet? Let me know. I'd love to hear your opinions.

By the way, a known (but not familiar) character will be entering the picture next chapter. Anyone want to venture a guess on who it is?

Also, does anyone think I should change the summary of the story? Let me know in a review, because I am considering it.

JeanieBeanie33

P.S. I've written a one-shot songfic based on Kenny Chesney's "Who You'd Be Today," sat in Severus's POV. I think that L/S fans would like it, so if you're one of them/don't mind reading the pairing/want more information on Lily and Severus's relationship in ASC universe/want more information on Severus, I recommend it.


	6. The Adamant Accomplice

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Harry Potter or any other character you recognize. The plot, any character you don't recognize, and any pranks mentioned are mine, ALL MINE! MWAHAHAHA! TAKE THAT, YOU EVIL LAWYERS:muse smacks me: Sorry about that.

**Chapter 6: The Adamant Accomplice**

It was a perfect September evening that was the end of a perfect September day, just like it'd been for the past few days. At the residence 345 Fisher Street (a very large white house with forest green shutters), four children – two boys and two girls – were running around in the backyard playing tag. At least, they were attempting to. It was rather hard when the chaser kept falling down.

It was a small surprise that it was the youngest of the four, a little girl with long, light blond hair in pigtails, a round face, and dark blue eyes just like her father's (one of the few traits she'd inherited from him). She was a good sport about her falling down, not at all deterred and actually quite liking it because it caused her siblings to come see if she was all right and therefore giving her a better chance to tag them (even though she was never quite fast enough to actually touch them).

All in all, the scene wasn't all that unusual, nor was the house, the car, or the rest of the street. However, when it came to the occupants, it was an entirely different story.

The first hint of the family's uniqueness was flying toward the children and their home that very moment: a handsome gray screech owl soared amongst the tree tops, outlined against the Lancashire sky. The little girl, having fallen down once again and had just happened to look up, squealed with delight. Pointing a pale four-year-old hand at it, she yelled in a slight lisp, "Look, look! I's an owlie!"

One by one, three other heads (all dark-haired and various ages) raised up to follow the owls progress.

"Wonder who it's from," said the second and last girl, who was also the second oldest child. Tucking behind her ear a few loose hairs that had broken free from her braid, she added, "It's probably for Mamma (!), seeing as Pappa (!2) doesn't like sorting mail."

"You know, I think that's Sirius's owl," said the youngest boy and second youngest child. "Its name is Prongs, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is!" said the eldest boy, who was Harry's age. "Wonder what it says."

"You think Mamma would tell us?" asked the little girl.

"Maybe," said the eldest boy. "Let's go ask! Maybe it's about us. Maybe Harry wants to meet us in Diagon Alley or something."

"I don't know, wouldn't he write it himself?" asked the eldest girl.

"Maybe it's about Hally-ween!" said the youngest girl excitedly.

"That's over a month away!" said the youngest boy, rolling his eyes. "Be reasonable, Sally!"

"I am being reasuble, _Robert_!" said Sally, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Cut it out so we can actually go see what it is!" said the eldest girl, frowning.

"Fine, then, let's go!" said Robert.

Neville, Matilda, Robert, and Aurora (or Sally, after her middle name Sarah) Longbottom rushed into the house, wondering what it was that their friend's godfather had written.

* * *

Inside the kitchen of the Lancashire home, a woman crouched by the stove. She had a round face, dark brown eyes that had a lively spark in each, permanently squared shoulders, and defined eyebrows that could lower to help form the obstinate unyielding expression the woman was famous for. Long arms that had a nicely-formed but calloused hand on the end of each, hair loose and blond and flowing in thick waves, the woman gave off an air of strength and steadfastness, as if she could stand strong at anything thrown her way and laugh in the face of danger (which she had actually done before, the danger being in the form of an infamous red-eyed Dark wizard). In short, the woman had presence, which was expected, since she was one of the best Aurors of the century. 

Alice Longbottom opened the oven door to check on the chicken (it was by her insistence that the house elves allow her to do the cooking when she was home in time) while cauliflower and broccoli stirred itself in a pot filled with steaming water. Sticking her fork in the meat, she saw that it was not quite finished yet. Shutting the oven door, she looked up at the sound of wings coming in from the open window that was at the top of the very tall room.

"Why, hello there, Prongs," she said, holding out her arm for the handsome screech – the very same screech that her children had seen – to land upon, which it did so happily. "Got something from Sirius for me, or is it Severus asking for more _mimbulus mimbletonia_ ointment?" The owl hooted once. "Oh, so it's Sirius?" Prongs hooted once more, and Alice nodded, taking the letter and adding, "I wonder what he's up to? Only one way to fi –"

Alice was abruptly interrupted by her four children: the eldest at nine, Neville; Matilda, second eldest at seven; Robert, the third child at six; and Aurora, or Sally, the baby of the family at four. Prongs, who seemed to be used to this type of interruption, didn't even twitch but looked at the newcomers with a stern look on his owlish face.

It was Sally – spitting image of Alice, with her long blond hair, freckles, pale complexion, and round face, but with Frank's blue eyes – who spoke first.

"Is the letter for us, Mamma?" Sally said excitedly in her girlish voice. "Is Sirius inviting us to meet him and Harry and Remus and the vampire man at Diagon Alley wit' him? Only I hope that the vampire man isn' coming, 'cause he doesn' like me that much and 'cause he's scary and a vampire. Or is it about Hally-ween? I know it is, Robert says I'm not be reasuble, but he's wrong because he is a – "

"Let me read it first, Sally," said Alice patiently. "I haven't even opened it yet! And careful what you say about your brother."

Under the watching eyes of her children, Prongs still perched on her shoulder, Alice opened the letter and began reading it, her eyebrows slowly getting higher than any of her children had ever seen, a mischievous smile slowly spreading across her face. When she finished the letter, she was almost laughing outright.

'_You haven't changed a bit, Sirius,'_ she thought.

"So?" Robert prompted, when his mother didn't say anything right away.

Alice seemed to snap out of it, and, still smiling that mischievous smile of hers, she said calmly, "I'm afraid that it's not about Diagon Alley or Halloween. It's just a very funny letter from a funny old friend who will never, ever change!" Turning her back lest they see her laugh, Alice managed to say to her children, "Please go wash up – dinner will be ready in five minutes. Neville, you're to wash first because I need you to watch the food for me; there's something that I need to do straight away."

"Yes, Mamma," said Neville, sharing confused looks with his siblings. Hearing them leave and taking the cauliflower and broccoli off of the stove (magic truly was a wonderful tool when it came to wanting to cook quickly), letting Prongs fly ahead since it seemed he was waiting for a reply, she practically skipped to the study her and Frank shared (Frank was still at the Ministry, although he would probably be home within minutes). Giving a girlish giggle that sounded a lot like Sally's, Alice quickly got out a quill that magically always had ink on the tip, ripped off a small piece of parchment, and wrote only one thing: _What did you have in mind?_

Still giggling, Alice tied the parchment onto Prongs's leg. Excitedly she watched him leave, feeling like she was back at Hogwarts.

"Sirius, I'll give you this – you know how to keep a girl young," she said to herself. Feeling cheerful, she cleaned up her desk (a habit she'd gotten from motherhood), then went to wash her own hands. After all, a mother must set a good example.

* * *

It was quite easy to get out of the house on a Wednesday morning: Harry was at school, ditto for Snape only he was at Hogwarts and wouldn't be back until late evening, and Remus was at the research office and also wouldn't be back until late. Luckily for Sirius (and unluckily for every other human being, according to Snape), it was his day off. Since all of Voldemort's followers were locked up in Azkaban (save for those slippery few like Lucius Malfoy who managed to worm themselves out of a sentence) and Voldemort himself was gone, there wasn't too much for an Auror to do (not that anyone was complaining). 

Cheerfully, Sirius adjusted his robes, slipped on his boots, and grabbed some Floo powder. Throwing it into the fire that he'd started in the grate, he shouted, "The Leaky Cauldron!" A few unpleasant moments later, Sirius staggered out of the fireplace of a familiar establishment.

Scratching his rump, Sirius waved at the old bartender, Tom, with his other hand, then set off for the brick wall that separated Diagon Alley from the rest of the world.

The streets weren't as energetic as they were during the summer, seeing as the kids old enough to go to Hogwarts had all ready bought their things and gone off to school. There were, however, still a wide variety of people there, some of them Sirius recognized and who recognized Sirius.

"Oi, Sirius!"

"G'day, mate!"

"Ey, Sirius, old chap, how's it going?"

Sirius laughed and waved at them, shouting quick replies. He would've stopped to chat normally, but he was on a mission. Spotting the particular persona he was looking for, he made a beeline for Florean Fortescue's. Sliding into a table, he smiled widely at the woman delicately eating her lemon ice cream sundae.

"How you doing, gorgeous?" he said.

Alice smiled at him, swallowing a spoon-full of ice cream.

"Pretty good, Mr. Charming," she replied.

"Excellent," said Sirius, snagging a spoon full of Alice's sundae. "And how about those perfectly loveable kids? Still causing trouble, I hope?"

"Actually, they've been a bit more tame this week," said Alice. "Sally told us yesterday that she wants to be an Unspeakable and so she's wearing a hat like that Sherlock Holmes and has got the rest of the kids making up mystery cases up for her. Even Robert can't help but join in."

"Ah, well, even Bobbie-boy can't resist those cute little rosy cheeks," said Sirius, leaning back leisurely and winking mischievously at one of the waitresses. "And Frank? How's he holding up?"

"He's doing just fine," said Alice, taking another bite of ice cream. "He's become addicted to the Lord of the Ring books, so he's been going a long way into the past every night."

"Hey, don't be blaming him!" said Sirius, waving a hand in a mock stern tone. "Those books are addictive! I'm guessing you're both happy about work, right? I heard you solved a case recently; I've been off for the past two days so I never got the details."

"The case was about a Cornish family whose belongings kept disappearing," said Alice. "It turned out to be the bloke next door; loved the tea set and the lamps a bit too much; they were antiques, though. Needless to say, there won't be any block parties involving _those _particular households any time soon. Anyway –" Alice put her spoon down and entwined her fingers. "– enough with the small talk. Time to discuss what we came here to talk about."

"I feel like I've been arrested," said Sirius jokingly. "No wonder they call you the Adamant Alice Longbottom! You don't give them a chance to lie!" Alice smirked.

"What can I say, I'm a woman of business," she said, flipping her hair back and adopting a haughty expression. "No sense beating around the bush, in my opinion. Back on subject, nevertheless. What's your plan, Sirius?"

"Well," said Sirius, stretching the word out. "I wasn't quite sure, really –"

"Sirius, I've known you since we were children," said Alice, raising her eyebrows, half-exasperated and half-amused. "Not once have you ever just _suggested_ an idea without having at least half a plan in mind. I've given you three days, you should have it all planned out by now."

"Now that you mention it," said Sirius, studying his nails, "I might have an idea for my idea."

"I thought so," said Alice. "Before you tell me it, though, tell me about Heather so I can tell you if it's stupid or not."

Sirius told her, in detail, about the first meeting and about how she seemed to connect with Remus, and that Remus seemed to like her and that his ears turned pink when Sirius mentioned that Heather seemed to like him (Remus couldn't hide anything from Sirius).

"I see," said Alice. "Well, she seems like a nice girl. We'd probably get along real well, if I ever met her, and so would Remus. Are you sure he blushed when you mentioned she seemed to like him?"

"Of course," said Sirius. "He can't hide anything from me, much to his no-doubt dismay."

"Well then, now that I've got a characterization of Heather you might as well tell me the plan," said Alice. "First thing is first, though." Something had been tugging at her mind for a while….

She strode determinedly to the counter, head raised high and a hand reaching to the side of her where her wand was located. Sirius watched, eyebrows rising, curious about what she was going to do. Habit had him reaching for his own wand, just in case it was an emergency.

Alice deliberately locked her jaw and, suppressing a smirk even as she pursed her lips, gazed imperiously at the now nervous-looking girl on the other side. Apparently, either by the bearing or by the crest on Alice's robes, she had recognized who exactly was standing in front of her, a hand on her wand side.

There was a moment of suspense, as the girl waited with baited breath, wondering if there was any possible chance she would survive this still employed...

"Two lemon sundaes, please," said Alice sweetly, pulling a couple of galleons out of the pocket that was underneath her wand and slapping them on the table.

Sirius couldn't help but stifle a laugh. Same old Alice – it was just like her to make a person sweat for no reason but her own amusement.

"Oh, and dear," Sirius heard Alice say, "would you get my friends over there –" she gestured, with a flourish, at a few witches she'd known from her Hogwarts days, "– a refill for them? I know they've only been waiting for ten minutes, but it would mean oh-so-much to me. Thank you." Alice smiled falsely, as the girl blushed and quickly handed Alice her sundaes.

"And you say I'm a meanie!" said Sirius when Alice came back, holding a lemon sundae in each hand. "Blimey, I'm nothing compared to you!"

"Well, she deserved it," said Alice, sitting down and generously handing a sundae to Sirius. "The little witch has been lounging behind that counter for twenty minutes even though there are people who need a refill, _including_ me and my dear compadrés over there, and tables to be cleaned. Glad she doesn't work in my division – be fired in a snit, if she even managed to get through training, I can promise you that."

"What can I say, it's not easy working under the Adamant Alice Longbottom," Sirius drawled, his voice in the same supercilious tone his father had talked in (!3). "I daresay, from experience, that it takes guts, bravery, steadfastness, power –"

"Oh Merlin, now I've got your ego going," Alice groaned. "Can you hush it up for a moment and tell me what you have in mind?"

"Fine," said Sirius sulkily; and he told her.

The secretive smiles on both Sirius's and Alice's faces unnerved everyone that saw them for the rest of the day.

* * *

(!) Seeing as how I don't know if it's spelled this way or not, you should know that the kids say it like "Muh-ma." 

(!2) Once again, I don't know if it's spelled like that or not, but they pronounce it like "Puh-pa."

(!3) I decided to make Alice Longbottom the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement instead of Amelia Bones. Amelia Bones is still in it, though – you can imagine her as a sort of advisor or something, and Frank is a vice head of department (after all, can't have one Longbottom without the other now can we :D).

* * *

Bit of a short chapter, but I introduced about five different characters, now didn't I? How did you like Alice? I'm liking her more and more as I write her; she's just so funny! At least in my opinion. 

I'm so happy to be updating quickly! Alice has got me all wound up so I wanted to quickly get her introduced so the ball could get rolling.

Hope you enjoyed, and don't forget to read and reply!

JeanieBeanie33


	7. The SCS Marauder and O Bad Croww

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Harry Potter or any other character you recognize. The plot, any character you don't recognize, and any pranks mentioned are mine, ALL MINE! MWAHAHAHA! TAKE THAT, YOU EVIL LAWYERS :muse smacks me: Sorry about that.

**Chapter 7: The SCS Marauder and O Bad Croww**

Sirius frowned; he couldn't find Remus anywhere. It had happened a great deal recently, something Sirius hadn't been expecting – after all, where could Remus hide in a house that Sirius had designed and built?

_Well, Remus helped build and design it, too,_ Sirius conceded, as he checked Remus's room again, _but he wouldn't add on anything without telling me, would he? Yes,_ he decided. _He probably would, to get a bit of privacy._

Normally, Sirius had respect for privacy – well, Remus's privacy, anyway – but this wasn't the best time for Remus to be sneaking off to places Sirius didn't know about. Nosy? Yes. None of his business? Yes. Selfish of him? Yes. Required to make sure the schemes he and Alice cooked up to go at least close to according to plan? Yes.

Sirius stopped in front of a wall, pressed a certain brick, and a section of the wall moved forward a few feet, wide enough for Sirius to walk along side it and peer into the opening at the end. The room inside it looked very cozy and was decked out in different shades of blue. It contained a comfy, bulging leather couch, a polished cherry nightstand on which lay a lamp and a reading glass (for the small-printed books Remus sometimes read), shelves that lined the big, long wall that lay in front of the couch and of which were stacked with books, candy, pictures, and assorted knick-knacks, a couple of broomsticks criss-crossed below a giant picture of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team in seventh year that Sirius and James had been members of on one wall, and a charmed cupboard that contained butterbeer, regular muggle Pepsi, water, tea cups and bags, mugs of hot chocolate, and cups of chocolate milk.

Remus, however, was no where to be found.

Deciding to give up for the time being and let Remus enjoy his privacy, Sirius chose a book about an American wizard boy in colonial times who'd been kidnapped by Indians. Grabbing a bottle of butterbeer, he turned on the lamp, made himself comfortable on the couch, and, after a glance at the Quidditch team picture, began to read.

* * *

Bubbles frothed, as the potion darkened into a deep purple. A quick addition of sycamore root quit the bubbles and turned the potion into a dark pink. 

Harry grimaced as Uncle Sev approached, mentally saying a curse that he'd heard Sirius utter. He turned up the flames of his burner with his wand, which made the pink turn a few shades darker so that it almost looked like a light red – almost.

Uncle Sev looked down his nose at the potion, then frowned at Harry, displeased, as shown by him crossing his arms.

"Harry, _how_ exactly can you mess up such a simple potion as a boil curing potion when you can manage to make a more difficult potion such as the Hair-Growing potion perfectly?" he drawled.

"It's – it's not too bad, Uncle Sev," said Harry quickly. "I mean, it's not red, exactly, but its close."

"But not close enough," said Uncle Sev, sighing. "You added too less of snake fangs and too much of horned slug skin. Next time read my instructions more carefully."

"Sorry," Harry muttered, wishing the class to be over all ready.

They were in one of the training sessions that had started a little over a year ago, just like Lily had requested (which Harry knew). He was taught Potions, Defense and Dueling, General Spells (charms and simple transfiguration), and Magical Creatures Study. He very rarely had homework, except to practice spells and to feel fry to read up on things that he studied in the library.

Harry thrived in three of the four sessions, especially Defense and Dueling, but he was, at best, only average in Potions. It wasn't because he didn't have a good and caring teacher; if anyone watched the classes Severus gave at Hogwarts, and the lessons that he exclusively taught to Harry, they would be quite surprised at the difference in Severus's attitude. It was just Harry just wasn't good at it.

But Severus was determined; he wouldn't let James Potter's atrocious Potion talents (or lack there-of) get in the way of teaching Lily Evans' son the skills he needed to know. He gave small pointers that he'd never divulged to anyone (unknowingly to Harry, they'd been pointers that Severus and Lily had discovered in their partnerships in Potions), went over the same potions continuously with Harry, and made flash cards of ingredients and what they usually did, as well as what they shouldn't be combined with without a medium. It was very different to how he treated his official students at Hogwarts.

'_Quite a difference, indeed.'_

Such were the thoughts of Remus Lupin as he watched them on more than one occasion (hidden, of course; there were a few passage ways that no one except Remus knew about the in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Marauders; an advantage of being one of the prime builders of it). Today was such a juncture, mostly because of the seemingly illimitable appearances of Sirius that happened wherever Remus seemed to be. It was rather like having an adhering and stubbornly persistent shadow. Sirius was stalking him, of that Remus was no longer equivocal, and, if past escapades were of any indication, that meant he was up to something. Therefore, Remus was desiring some time alone, in a place where Sirius couldn't find him – and this passage way, clandestinely one of those added by Remus at the time that this house was built (about seven years ago), was such a place.

Remus wasn't considered the "Smart Marauder," the "Cautious Marauder," and the "Secretive Marauder," for nothing (as said by Sirius, backin their Hogwarts yearsand Sirius was ranting about how he wasn't in a lot of stereotypes like the restwere, resulting in the nickname of the "SCS Marauder" for Remus).

Sitting down in a chair that he had thoughtfully put there in this passage way, Remus relaxed, looking out of the wall at his fellow guardian and their ward. The wall was simply but effectively hid, thanks to a spell Remus had read up upon one day when he was bored at work: you could look through it from the inside, but not the outside, unless you were standing directly in front of where the passage way was and knew about it. It was only one of the reasons why Remus thought it useful to work in the Official Britain Archives, Documentations, and Collections for Research of Witchcraft and Wizardry (or "O bad croww," as Sirius had named it after discovering what neologisms were).

Remus smiled as he saw Severus mouth, "Damn you, Potter," while looking upward, and had a feeling it wasn't directed at Harry. Where once he would have scowled and transferred his sometimes detrimental hate of James to Harry, it was quite obvious that Severus no longer hated Harry. It was the exact opposite: Severus loved Harry. Somehow, that boy had reached his heart in a way that only one other person in the entire world had ever managed.

_Love._ That word seemed to have a very substantial history with Remus – or rather, with this entire household. It was most likely because that's what held the household together, like some weird type of glue, all thanks to Harry.

Actually, that wasn't completely true. It wasn't just because of Harry. It was because of his parents: Lily, who'd forged a friendship and, at one time, a romantic relationship with one of the most shrewd (and seemingly heartless) of Slytherins; and James, who'd forged a friendship with a werewolf and a boy outlawed from his own family (as well as the most notorious traitor of the century, but that was an unfortunate lapse of judgment on all of their parts).

Harry had what two of his guardians had always wanted: a family who loved him. He had a nice house with his three guardians, lots of friends, went to a good school, and had immense promise of being a powerful wizard.

And yet…something wasn't complete at the charming red-bricked, black-shuttered house on Pembercy Lane that was the envy of the neighborhood (and known to be inhabited by the most interesting of people). An absence of a sort that was only felt at the quietest of times when, like a sly beast, it would sneak into the house, from every nook, cranny, and crag, into the ear of whatever human was aware enough, and whisper, _'I am here.'_

Remus knew what it was, although Sirius, Harry, and perhaps Severus were unconscious to it: a woman's touch.

Sirius had had girlfriends, being the lady's man he'd always been, but none of the relationships managed to get too somber. Remus had always been single even before Harry had come to live with him, first citing his need to get a job, then his concern over Lily, and lastly his responsibility of looking after Harry. Severus didn't love any woman, except Lily and his mother, and both were dead.

Perhaps that was why Sirius was so eager to set him up with Heather (Remus had known Sirius far too long to expect anything else). Perhaps that's why the windows had plain red and gold curtains instead of fancy ones, and why none of the beds had tons of pillows and sheets with lace on them. Perhaps that's why Harry had refused to be read to before bed ever since his mother died, because it didn't feel right for a man to do it. Perhaps that was why there were Quidditch books instead of Jane Austen; the Weird Sisters instead of Celestina Warbeck; _Martin Miggs_ instead of _Witch Weekly_; books on hexes, curses, spells, and potions rather than books on cleaning charms (although Remus did have a faded, moldy old copy of _House Cleaning for Idiots_ James had given him as a joke in fourth year that he'd later found out had been given to James by his grandmother).

Perhaps that's why Remus didn't mind that Sirius was trying to play matchmaker – or maybe it was something else entirely.

One thing was for certain, though; that absence had nothing to do with the fact that Remus was glad that it was Heather who would be involved in whatever plans Sirius had.

* * *

Not much but it's something, right? It's a sort of filler, giving me time to figure out which ideas I'm going to use as match making ploys. They seem to be popping up everywhere all of a sudden. It also explains why Remus isn't going to great lengths to stop Sirius from setting him up – yes, Remus knows what Sirius is up to (shocking!), although he doesn't know Alice is in on it. 

Reviews are appreciated.

JeanieBeanie33


	8. Plan A

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Harry Potter or any other character you recognize. Just occasionally dip my toes into JKR's world.

**Chapter 7: ****Plan A: Some Sirius Digging**

"Do you have the letter?"

"Duh! Come on, Alice, give me _some_ credit!"

"Rather not. You see, I did that once, and I ended up with lemon-scented underwear. The second time I did it, I ended up bunny ears."

"The first was a joke, and the second was an accident, I swear!"

"Mmm-hmm. Whatever. I'm over it now, since I got back at you both times. Anyway, I believe I have the correct address, and if I don't then I'm going to kill you because you gave me that – that phony-thing."

"Phonebook. I thought you took Muggle Studies?"

"I got a Dreadful in it. What does that tell you?"

"That you are definitely a pureblood."

"So are you."

"Never said I wasn't, Alice dear!"

"I hate it when you call me that. Keep it up and I'll make sure Frank catches you. Then _you_ will end up with bunny ears and lemon-scented underwear!"

"Thought you said you were over that!"

"Exactly, but that doesn't mean I forgot it. Now, shut up; that muggle lady is staring at us. Let's get this over it. Hopefully, your luck that always seems to kick in whenever you pull a prank will be with us and we don't screw it up."

"Of course we're lucky! I am, after all, the incredibly clever, undeniably lucky, severely sexy –"

"Now I _know_ you must be joking. You got old, Sirius; you're not 'sexy' anymore."

"There are several women that would disagree with you."

"I'm sure there are, but since when are women always smart, just like men are never always smart? Are you sure this blue thing will deliver the letter?"

"Yep. Lily explained this to me."

"Oh, good. I can trust that she got it right. I must go, Sirius." There was a clink as the letter was pushed into the post office box. "I've got a dinner to make. Arthur and Molly Weasley and those of their brood not already at Hogwarts are coming over."

"Farewell, dear Alice."

"Shut up." Alice Longbottom put her hands in her pocket, walked around the corner of the sparsely populated street, and, with a pop, she was gone. Sirius Black smirked and patted the letterbox.

"You're in the family now, man," he drawled, grinning. "So remember: Never let anyone outside the family know what you're thinking." There was a small pop, and a letter landed on his head. Frowning, Sirius opened it. In a deceptively delicate hand was:

_Dear Sirius,_

_quit imitating Marlon Brando. you've got nothing on him._

_sincerely,  
__alice_

"She stalks me, I swear," Sirius said out loud, making a muggle man stare at him in alarm.

"What is your problem?"

"What do you mean, what is my problem? That is NOT something that a man wears."

"It goes lovely with your eyes –"

"Shut up, Sirius. And it's _red_ – it doesn't match my eyes at all, you colorblind nutcase."

"– I mean, you might actually get a woman to _talk_ to you instead of just asking where the loo is –"

"I said, shut _up_, Sirius."

"But Remus, my dear friend, I'm only complimenting you on –"

"Sirius, unless you want this tea cup shoved up your nose, you will SHUT UP."

"I'm just saying, if you're trying to finally stop making your wardrobe look like a collection of funeral wear –"

CRASH! There was the sounds of a struggle and long streams of curses from both men as Remus's tea cup was knocked out of his hand by Sirius (which resulted in the crash), and was instead replaced with the sugar bowl, which was held in a death grip by Remus's fingers that were dangerously close to Sirius's nostrils.

Sirius, who had just gotten back from his mile-long morning jog, was not exactly at his physical best. He then thought of a motto that Mad-Eye Moody had taught him back in his Auror days: _I might have to fight dirty, but I'll win._ As a consequence, he raised his knee and promptly knocked Remus where the sun didn't shine.

It was comical to watch, thought Harry, looking from his position around the corner. There was a widening of the eyes, a swift 'oomph!' as a breath was exhaled, and a truly traumatized look on Remus's face. The next moment – well, if looks could kill, Sirius would've spontaneously combusted.

"SIRIUS YOU ASSHOLE!" Remus growled, and Harry had to hide his giggle; Uncle Remus only used words like that when he thought Harry wasn't around.

Remus reached up and grabbed – yes, grabbed – Sirius's face, like it was a mask, and pulled. Sirius howled; the sugar bowl hit the floor with another crash; little grains were everywhere. The two grappled; Remus grabbed Sirius's hand and tried to shove it in one of the shards of glass; they switched places, and Sirius's back hit the floor. Remus's expression was pretty amusing at this point, with Sirius's other hand pressed hard against the other's face so that Remus looked Asian.

It was then that Sev walked in, took one look at the scene, and stopped dead.

"I'm not even gonna ask," he deadpanned, "but I wish I had a camera." Remus and Sirius's heads slowly turned to look at Severus…and simultaneously realized several things:

Sirius was holding Remus's hand.

Remus was almost on top of Sirius.

There was a silk, dark red, very feminine-looking scarf on the kitchen countertop now above them and

Harry was laughing his little heart out in the doorway leading to the dining room.

As soon as their minds wrapped around this concept, there was another scrabble, only this time to get as far away from each other as possible. Sirius rolled across the floor like his idol James Bond, and Remus quickly stood up, straightened his clothes, and marched to the closet to get out the broom in order to clean up the glass-covered floor. He had to pass a now-smirking Severus, but couldn't quite bring himself to look him in the eye.

"Harry, stay out of the kitchen till I clean this up," he muttered sheepishly.

Severus grinned and made a point to keep at least two feet of space between the two of them, making Remus blush. Sirius was busy avoiding everyone's eye and looking out the window, hands on his hips trying to look manly.

"As amusing display as this is," said Severus a couple minutes later, after Remus had cleaned up the shards of glass (still avoiding Severus's eye) and Sirius had continued staring at the window occasionally snorting or clearing his throat (still not saying a word). "I'm afraid I have to break the code of silence. You have a letter, Remus."


End file.
